


not broken just bent

by EKmisao



Series: light and dark [4]
Category: Les Misérables (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Gen, M/M, occasional nsfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-27
Updated: 2014-01-18
Packaged: 2017-12-24 20:04:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 16,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/944077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EKmisao/pseuds/EKmisao
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The pilot returned, but the scars and the pain remain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [keio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/keio/gifts).



> "It's been written in the scars on our hearts,  
> We're not broken, just bent."  
> \-- Just Give Me a Reason

Heavy gasps and loud beeps came from the simulator. The coordinator and the doctor stared intently at waveforms and lines. Many of the lines both of them looked at were colored red and orange. 

The audio from the simulator gave out, “No….no….please….no, stop, I can’t do this!” 

And, “I’m here, Grantaire, calm down. I’m here. I’m okay…calm down…” 

"Talk to me," the center ordered the two at the control panels. "And please, minimal jargon." 

"We’re losing the neural synch," Courfeyrac explained his side. 

"Panic attack, severe," spoke Joly. 

Combeferre nodded. “Abort simulation.” 

"Okay," said the other two, with relief, as they pressed buttons. 

The simulation halted. Monitors stop displaying visuals. Pneumatics let out steam and air. Long beeps commenced as the chamber opened. Arm and leg grips were released. Fluid drained from helmets. 

Grantaire pulled off the helmet then collapsed on the floor, pale and gasping. 

.................................................

The sheep had been found, but he was still lost. 

He was quiet and pensive since he returned to the resistance base. He spent his days wandering through the base, going through every hall and room, a familiar stranger to the place. He smiled sadly and nodded when spoken to, but rarely answered. He only talked with Enjolras, if at all. 

He looked up at all the jaegers in the base, and watched the mechanics and technicians while they repaired them. He spent the longest time looking at the newest jaeger, the Drift Singularity, salvaged from the parts of the older jaeger wrecked by a category 4 kaiju. 

With much hesitation, he agreed to test the new jaeger's system, initially through their simulator. 

So far, the attempt had been unsuccessful. 

.................................................

The core members of the resistance filled the laboratory, making it more cramped than it already was. 

Combeferre and Courfeyrac rapidly discussed neural synchronicity with voices raised above the general noise, pointing multiple times at several monitors. Bahorel stared carefully at the video of the simulation, looking at each frame, going back and forth in slow motion. Jehan hastily typed figures and formulas into a mainframe, checking the Drift and running various scenarios. Bossuet checked every nook and cranny of the simulator with a small device, searching for a crack or an error in the system. 

Gavroche, the mechanic, hovered over all the monitors, running circles around each of them. “Was something wrong with the schematics? Or the pneumatics? Did I over-clock the mechanisms when I compensated for the singular pilot?”

His step-sister Eponine kept to a corner and asked anyone who came inches near her, “Is he going to be okay? He’s going to be okay, right?”

Joly busied himself analyzing all the numbers on monitors from wires that stemmed from a young man unconscious on a steel bed, hooked to an oxygen supply from a face mask. Enjolras’s eyes darted to and fro, knowing what everyone was doing, as he kept a hand squeezed over and around his co-pilot.

Only Marius was nonplussed. “Has anybody remembered to bring the guy a beer?” he asked. “And does everyone else need one right now? ‘Cause I can go get some.” 

The group answered in unison: “Thanks, newbie!” 

"I thought so," Marius chuckled and headed to the canteen. 

It was then that the numbers and lines on Joly’s monitors shifted, as the source of all the organized chaos breathed heavily and raised a knee. 

"What…was that…about beer?" he asked, opening an eye. 

A collective sigh was heard, followed by relieved smiles circling around the laboratory. Same old Grantaire. 

"Hey, hey, are you okay? Hey, hey, are you okay?" Joly asked gently, in the way everyone knew from the required basic CPR course. 

The group was silent, waiting for an answer.

Grantaire looked at all of them in turn. He placed a hand over his heart. He pulled away the oxygen mask, but gasped deeply and heavily. “Let…me…go. Please. This is all a mistake.” 

Everyone frowned again. He was different now.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is turning out to have more conversation than the first multichapter thing. I hope it's not getting confusing.

The group circled around a case of beer. The case was now empty, as each had taken a bottle from it. Many of those bottles were already half-empty. They let Grantaire sleep in Jehan’s quarters nearby. Enjolras’ gaze kept moving toward it. 

Combeferre sighed. “Did we really do a good thing? Finding that lost sheep?”

"Center, I’ll ask kindly for you to stop that," Marius said, rather brazenly. "I saw what I saw. I saw him barely breathing on that floor. If we didn’t come after him, he’d be dead. I will insist that you did a good thing." 

"But, to subject him again to this life? Are we doing the right thing?" 

"Our enemies are stronger and tougher now. We need every man," Bahorel spoke. "I remember the Patria being the best and fastest. We need it back. Feuilly and I are good, but I feel that we can’t be the central point of our strategy." 

"Can he do it, though? Can he pilot again?" 

"Yes," Enjolras said. "But give him time." He sighed as his eyes drifted toward the door. 

"Um, the kaiju don’t know about R, or about time?" Courfeyrac said. 

Combeferre sighed, and nodded. “Doc?” 

"He has PTSD," Joly explained. "Post-traumatic stress disorder." He looked toward Enjolras, who nodded in agreement. 

"So why doesn’t the light have it so bad?" Courfeyrac asked. 

"I was unconscious, remember," Enjolras sunk his head as he replied. "R saw everything. It still haunts him." 

Combeferre rubbed his chin. “Isn’t desensitization the treatment for that?” 

Joly shook his head. “That’s for phobias. PTSD of course is a kind of phobia, but it’s cruel to make someone relive a terrible event over and over. Consummation is a better way to deal with it. Acceptance and moving on.” 

"Easier said than done." 

Joly nodded. 

"So, what do we do in the meantime?" Courfeyrac asked. 

Joly answered readily. “Aclimatization, as kindly as we can do it. Suicide precautions.” 

The group grew silent for several long moments. Some stared at the floor or at their beer bottles. The others looked toward the center and the light. Enjolras sighed and bowed his head, out of answers. They did not need to be in the Drift to feel each other’s thoughts. Grantaire was a friend. They were glad to have him back, after so long. They had seen what he had been through. They did not want to cause him more pain. 

Combeferre took a deep breath and lifted his head. “Noted,” he said at last. “Enjolras, ol’ pal, move the co-pilot back with you at your quarters. C, setup CCTV in those quarters. No simulations for now, not until R asks himself. Enjolras resumes tactical. Eponine, do you and Marius still need help?” 

"I’d be glad for it," Eponine said. "We keep disagreeing on things." 

"I’ll set up training runs for you with Grantaire, then," the center said. "In an actual battle I’ll have him coach you through it. Fine with you, light?" 

"No problem," Enjolras said. 

"Furthermore, take the guy with you during speaking engagements. He doesn’t need to appear before media, just take him along. To keep him busy."

Enjolras nodded, to Combeferre, and to the rest of the group. “Thank you, all of you.” 

The center adjourned the spontaneous meeting. 

.....................................

The group parted ways, some going back to the control room, others returning to their quarters or the laboratory. 

Enjolras went to where the co-pilot lay curled up over Jehan’s bed. 

He draped himself over him. 

"I’m okay, R. I’m not going anywhere. I’m here. I’ll always be here. You’re safe now. I’m not going away."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got typed over several days, most of it during the MillionPersonMarch ScrapPork thing. There is no tumblr equivalent, because it was all over the place, patchy, and incoherent until a few hours ago. (The recent tumblr things will be posted here eventually.) 
> 
> Thank you so much for liking so far.

Grantaire stared absent-mindedly before the Drift Singularity, tall and proud, standing near the airlock. Gavroche gave him a tour, raising and lowering a cantilever, pointing out what was old, what was new, what was borrowed, what was blue. 

"Does it have a wedding band and and a garter, too?" he joked, weakly. 

"It has an iPod dock near your controls, and can remotely access your iTunes library from the computer at your quarters," Gavroche said. "You can also control if Enjolras can hear the music or not. I understand he doesn't like indie bands and jazz." 

Grantaire smiled slightly, then sighed. He looked up again at the jaeger, silent. 

Gavroche looked at him from under his cap. "Was there….something wrong with the setup? Maybe I should've constructed a whole new jaeger from scratch?" Gavroche asked. 

Grantaire shook his head. "This one's really good, don't worry." 

The mechanic heaved a huge sigh of relief. He looked up at him again. "Is there anything….I can do…to….you know…." 

"You've already done a lot." Grantaire patted the boy's cap. "Don't worry about me." 

"But…I can recalibrate the pneumatics, improve on the neural handshake, or blunt it a little if you want, or place the viewfinder higher so it's Enjolras who gets the good view…" 

Grantaire shut his eyes and sighed. "Gavroche. It's okay. Really. I'm not your fault." 

The sirens of the base began to blare, loud and unrelenting. 

Grantaire blanched. 

Combeferre's voice followed, sounding through the public-address system. "Boys and girls, we have an incoming category 3. I repeat, we have an incoming category 3. To battle stations. Drift Singularity, to the control room, now. Flash Corinthian and Paris Contradiction, prepare to deploy. Wait for instructions."

Grantaire looked up at the control room in a daze. 

Gavroche nudged him. "Drift Singularity. That's her. That's you, pal." 

But the co-pilot stared at the control room with trembling hands and a cold forehead. 

The center's voice came through the speakers again. "Enjolras, Grantaire, get up here." 

Gavroche placed himself behind the co-pilot and pushed him forward. 

……………………………

"Yes or no," Combeferre asked the two pilots in front of him, one wheelchair-bound, the other pale and trembling. "Can Drift Singularity deploy?" 

"No," Grantaire readily answered, failing to control the cold sweat and rapid breaths. 

Enjolras turned toward the co-pilot and sighed. "Not today, center." 

"Very well." The center rubbed his forehead. 

Combeferre took up the PA microphone. "Drift Singularity cannot deploy. Enjolras assumes tactical. Eponine, your coach is assigned to Line 2." He looked toward Grantaire. "If he feels ready to assist." 

"But…but….Com…." Grantaire stammered. 

"I'm sorry for being so direct right now, old friend. But I need to be certain about what I can work with," the center interrupted. He spoke firmly, but with as much kindness as he could add. "Yes or no. Can you help Eponine and Marius?" 

"Maybe?" 

"Yes or no." 

He gulped, but faced the center squarely. "Y-y-yes." 

"Line 2, then, R," Combeferre said. "I'm putting them equal to Bahorel's team, not secondary, as there is only one kaiju and this is a category 3. Talk them through it, okay?" 

He nodded. "Combeferre, I'm sorry….really…." 

"Later, R." The center gave him a pat on the shoulder. He pointed to the monitor directly in front of a microphone. "This gives the visuals that the newbies are seeing, the other gives the status of their mechanics and pneumatics. Need anything else?" 

Grantaire looked at the displays, found them sufficient. "Some beer," he said. 

"I'll ask someone from the canteen to come up," the center said with a grin. "Let's do this." 

Grantaire sat down before the monitor, put the headset on, and took a deep breath. "H-hey, kids. Status." 

Eponine and Marius alternately spoke, giving the numbers on their mechanics and pneumatics. They also gave the numbers the displays gave about the kaiju. There were minor discrepancies between the information in the control room and that given by the pilots, since they were nearer to the monster. 

"C-c-correct the pneumatics to the legs, Marius," he said. "Eponine, loosen the mechanics on the arms. Also, your display settings are rather blurry, sharpen them a little." 

The technicals were fixed to satisfaction, and a few more details were corrected. 

"T-try as much as possible never to stand directly in front of the kaiju, un-unless you're going to attack. You never know what those things will hit you with," he advised. "Keep a good visual on the kaiju at all times, though." 

But as the category 3 kaiju appeared, large, menacing, and growling, on the control room display, Grantaire froze. 

He shut his eyes and gripped the armrests. He opened his eyes again but started to pant. 

Enjolras turned to look at the co-pilot. Grantaire sat and stared blankly at the monitors, his chest heaving. He did not respond to transmissions coming from Eponine. 

"Line 2? Is everything okay, Line 2? Grantaire? Control?" 

Enjolras wheeled himself up beside him. "Calm down, R. I'm here. I'm here. Nothing will happen." 

"Nothing will happen to you," the co-pilot said in a panic, "but what if something happens to THEM because of me? Please, I can't have that on my conscience too." 

"Breathe, my friend. Breathe, and calm down," Enjolras coaxed. "Breathe. Calm down." He held his hand. "Eponine and Marius are both smart and capable, and they work well together. They just need guidance." 

Grantaire pulled off the headset, drew his feet up onto the chair, covered his ears and head with his arms, hid his face with his knees. "It will happen," he said, his voice muffled. "It'll happen to them, as it happened to me. I don't want it to happen. I don't. I don't." 

A beep was heard. The center patched Joly. "I have injectable diphenhydramine and oral alprazolam on standby," the doctor said. 

"Translate, doc," Combeferre said. 

"I have stuff to calm him down and put him to sleep quickly, on standby." 

"Standby," Combeferre said. "Let the light handle it first." He nodded toward Enjolras. 

Enjolras took the headset. He placed the wheelchair behind Grantaire's seat, and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. He leaned in and kissed the back of the co-pilot's head. He kept holding him as he trembled and shook. He kept him steady as the co-pilot breathed slowly and heavily. 

" 'Ponine, this is Enjolras. Give your status." 

"We're okay, light. I know R is worried about that, but we're okay," Eponine's voice came through the transmission. "What's the plan?" 

"Bully attack," Enjolras answered. He kept squeezing his co-pilot's hand. "Overwhelm the kaiju, and make him fall. Bahorel, ready the canons. Fire when ready. Then 'Ponine, kick and punch. Take him down." 

"Kick and punch?!" Marius cried. "I can't even walk straight in this jaeger!" 

"How do you do that kickboxing thing?" Eponine quickly asked. 

"I don't understand the question," Enjolras said. 

It was Grantaire who muttered, even as his hands kept shaking. His words were confident, but his voice was unsure. "Punch-kick. Pneumatics up. Left-right-up-kick." 

"Oh, that!" The other pilot understood. "R said to raise your pneumatics to highest level," Enjolras said. "Then think together: Left punch, right punch, uppercut, right kick." 

The flicks of several levers were heard. "Pneumatics raised," Marius reported. 

"Charge in," Enjolras ordered. 

Grantaire trembled even more. 

"WHAT?!" Marius complained. 

"No time like the present! YAAAAAAH!" Eponine cried. 

"Oh, hell," Marius added. "YAAAAAAH!" 

The two ran the jaeger toward the kaiju. 

Grantaire cowered into a tighter ball, as Enjolras wrapped his arms tighter around him. "On my cue, kids, on my beat," Enjolras ordered. 

"Okay!" 

They met the kaiju head-on. 

"NOW!" 

"Now!" 

"Left - right - up - kick!" 

The control center watched as the jaeger executed a smooth one-two punch, hit the monster in the jaw, finished it with a raised kick to the side. The kaiju teetered. 

"YES!" Eponine squealed. "Roundhouse, please, R!" 

Grantaire muttered again, still trembling, still curled up on the chair. "Roundhouse. Pneumatics midrange. Gravity to torso. Left-spin-kick." 

Enjolras translated the orders. 

The jaeger spun on its left leg in a wide arc then smacked the monster in the head. The kaiju lost balance. 

"Pneumatics up. Right-straight-kick. Take-down. Finish," Grantaire muttered. 

"Pneumatics to highest," Enjolras said. "Straight kick with the right leg. Push the kaiju down, and keep it down. Finish it, kids!" 

"Gladly!" Eponine declared. 

"Pneumatics raised!" Marius added. 

"On cue," Enjolras said. "Go." 

"Right - straight - kick - take down! - finish!" 

With a heavy kick, the jaeger toppled the kaiju into the water, splashing water in all directions. Eponine gave a finishing punch, setting the kaiju into a curdling scream. But Bahorel and Feuilly charged in, and drove their jaeger's spear into the heart of the beast. 

It was over. 

................................

Two jaegers stood triumphant over the bloodied carcass of a defeated category 3. 

"Oh, my gosh, Grantaire!" Eponine squealed through the transmitter. "So simple, so awesome! You have to teach me those properly!" 

"I didn't know you could do that with the pneumatics," Marius added. 

"Glad to have those moves back, chief!" Bahorel said. 

The co-pilot had heard none of the praise. 

With the kaiju's dying throes, he had walked out of the control room, still trembling and in a cold sweat. 

They found him in the pantry of the cafeteria, unconscious, surrounded by many empty bottles of beer.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are the recent tumblr posts, generally made when very tired.

As ordered, Grantaire brought what little possessions he had into Enjolras’ quarters. It was still a sparse, spartan affair, just with a wider table to fit a wheelchair.

He unpacked a knapsack, placing shirts and socks and underwear as unobtrusively as possible at the far corner of a joint cabinet. He slung his knapsack and threw it up over the top bunk bed.

He took off his shoes. He took off his shirt and slipped into loose jogging pants. He sighed as he placed a foot on the lowest rung.

"Take the lower bunk, R," Enjolras said, wheeling in from the door. He was already in pajamas.

Grantaire looked at him, looked well at the wheelchair. “I can’t do that.”

"I insist," Enjolras said.

"But…"

"Trust me on this, and do as I say."

Grantaire rubbed his unruly curls as he shrugged. “Where are you going to sleep, then?”

Enjolras crossed his arms and frowned at him in reply.

"Oh, fine…"

Grantaire claimed the pillow and blanket of the bottom bunk. He scratched his head again as he settled into bed.

"Scoot," Enjolras ordered. "Move a bit inward."

"Huh?"

"Do as I say."

Grantaire obeyed, moving nearer to the wall.

Enjolras, meanwhile, removed the left-side armrest to the wheelchair, as he moved the wheelchair parallel to the bed. With a quick lift, he shifted from the chair to the bed.

He took off his slippers and, lifting one leg at a time, settled into bed beside Grantaire.

Grantaire squirmed, uncomfortable with the cramped arrangement. “Are you….sure about this? You might fall over.”

"Trust me," was all Enjolras said.

"But…I toss and turn," Grantaire protested. "People say I talk in my sleep…"

"We’ve already shared quarters before, I know that," Enjolras said. "Trust me."

"I….get nightmares now…"

Enjolras yawned and turned toward him. “Grantaire, shut up. Trust me.”

He wrapped an arm around Grantaire’s waist. He leaned his head onto Grantaire’s shoulder.

"Trust me," he said, as he drifted off to sleep.

.........................................

 

Grantaire awoke to the sounds of splashing, crashing and swearing.

"Not fucking again! Every single morning! Argh!" 

Grantaire turned, and found himself alone on the warmed bed. The sounds came from the bathroom nearby.

A steel something clanged over the tiles, as water splashed in a regular stream.

"Stupid legs. All the tech in the world, what good does it do me? Damn this. Damn it all."

Then the sounds of movement stopped. Only the streaming water continued to splash audibly from the shower. 

Grantaire scratched his head at the lack of sound. He yawned as he got up from the bed. 

He walked to the bathroom, to see what was wrong. He found the bathroom door unlocked. He gently opened it.

He found the pilot seated under the strong stream of shower water, his golden hair hiding his face, his arms fallen to the side. They had installed a small metal foldable seat under the showerhead for his use, along with a handrail on the wall. The bar of soap had slid to the farther end of the shower, away from easy reach. A barbecue skewer also lay on the far end of the shower, wet and useless. 

"Fuck this. Fuck that stupid kaiju," the pilot muttered, almost muffled by the water. 

Grantaire entered the shower, jogging pants and bare chest and bare feet. He stepped toward the far end of the shower, reached down and took the soap bar.

He stood before Enjolras, and held the soap. He stood before that physique, weaker at the legs but still tight and sinewed, stronger and more muscular at the arms and chest.

"I don’t need your stupid pity, damn you," the light said.

"But…you’re beautiful, my light…"

"Stop it! Stop pitying me. Like everyone else. Telling me lies…"

He said nothing. He reached over and held the back of Enjolras’ head. He brought it near his chest.

He held him, as the water soaked them both.

…………………………

He held him for many long moments. The shower water drenched the jogging pants, but he did not care. He needed to get them laundered anyway. 

He waited for Enjolras to withdraw his head, with a gentle, satisfied sigh. 

Grantaire asked: “How come you don’t use shower gel?”

The pity had passed. Enjolras looked up at me and smirked. “More wasteful. Plastic bottles.”

"Ah."

Grantaire placed the soap bar onto the pilot’s hand.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been reblogging so many cute art-type things that the recent posts are getting buried, so here they are before they are buried. These are the two 'chibi' posts.
> 
> K (and here I go, Cecil-like, nice, talented, awesome, cat-fanatic, incredible K, with the nice bangs and well-styled hair) has made drawings of the material in this chapter, [over here](http://kannibal.tumblr.com/post/60922308782/the-class-leader-the-one-everybody-liked-the), go like and heart and reblog and such.

Grantaire was six years old again, small and wiry, his hands covering his ears and the dark messy curls around his head. 

Many little boys kicked and stomped and whacked at his head. “You’re a little R! You’re not a big R!” they teased as they kicked and hit and spat and laughed. 

He shut his eyes tightly and braced himself as the kicking and hitting continued. 

Then they all stopped as one of the bigger boys screamed. He heard the footfall rapidly running away from him. He heard more screams from the other boys, as the beatings stopped and they all ran away as well. 

He kept his eyes shut, certain that they would return. 

But he heard the angry menacing growls of an unknown beast.

He lifted his head and peeked through one eye.

He found gigantic purple, green, blue, and gray stuffed reptilian toy monsters stomping through his playground and his town. They were all larger and taller than the largest tallest building. They growled and snarled and screamed about wanting to be his friend and growled and snarled. 

Everyone else ran and screamed and panicked, scattering in all directions away from the playground and away from the town. He did not know what to do himself, so he shut his eyes again, covered his ears and his hair with his hands, and waited for the worst. 

No one will come after me, he said to himself as he kept his eyes shut and his ears muffled to the angry growls and panicked screams. Not my mommy or daddy, or anybody. Because I’m just a little R, not a big R, and I don’t matter to anybody. 

But he heard the crunch of little rubber shoes just in front of him. 

"STAY AWAY FROM MY FRIEND!" a squeaky little voice declared. "Come fight me, if you dare!" 

He knew that voice, and he refused to believe who it was. The class leader, the one everybody liked, kids and teachers and parents, all of them. He had no business being in the playground, being with him, and being in front of him. 

The leader was answered with terrifying growls and screeches from the monsters. 

He curled up even more. “Go away! Your mommy must be looking for you! The monsters will eat you!” 

"I’m not leaving anyone behind!" the class leader declared and he backed up nearer to him. 

"But I’m a little R, and…and…" 

"And I’m your friend!" the leader said. 

[The leader grabbed his arm and pulled him up.](http://31.media.tumblr.com/f57e0e386257b0403c49aee8c4d102f9/tumblr_msyeaiK0MK1qzqvu4o1_1280.png)

He was now forced to look at the class leader. The boy with the blonde wavy hair and the red jacket was armed with only a bat and his sheer bravado. 

But the leader held his hand tightly in his own, and waved the bat at the approaching stuffed monster horde. 

"R! Not big, not small. Just R! You’re coming with me!" the leader said, taking his hand and running with him. 

……………………….

He opened his eyes and found himself wrapped in Enjolras’ warm arms, the gentle breath warming his ear and shoulder. His head rested over the pilot’s chest. He felt the pilot’s heart beating a steady rhythm, the pilot’s body rising and falling below his head. 

He closed his eyes again and drifted to pleasant dreams. 

.....................................

Enjolras watched from a deserted nothingness as two little boys ran, hand in hand, away from rampaging stuffed colored monsters. 

He tried to scream to them. Over here! It’s safe here! Come over here! 

But his voice did not penetrate the nothingness.

He decided to run toward the boys, to catch up to them, carry them in his arms, and bring all of them to safety. 

But his legs did not feel, did not lift, did not obey him. 

He tried shouting again, but the little boys were too far away now to see him or to hear him. 

He cursed his limbs. He pounded at them with heavy fists, forcing them to feel something, anything, even if it was pain. But he felt nothing. 

He held his face, and covered them in his hands.

He started to cry. 

……………………………..

He felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned slowly and found the little boy with dark curly hair. 

"Are you okay, ‘Jolras?" the boy asked. 

He smiled slightly, bitterly. He reached out and placed a hand over the boy’s head. “I should be asking you that question.” 

[The boy heaved as he sniffed away some snot, as he rubbed away tears on his cheek.](http://25.media.tumblr.com/513f501019e6f377104082b320ac83aa/tumblr_msyeaiK0MK1qzqvu4o2_500.png)

"I’m scared, ‘Jolras." 

He ruffled the hair his fingers held. “I know.” 

The boy sniffled one long sniff, then looked at him well. “Are you scared, too?” 

The question surprised him. It made his heart pound in his chest. It made him more aware of how numb, how not-there, how absent, his legs felt. 

"I’m scared," he admitted to the boy. "But I’m scared-er that I can’t protect you, that I can’t help Combeferre and Courfeyrac, that I can’t fight for everybody else. Of that, that I’m very, very scared."

"Why?" the boy asked. 

"Because I can’t help."

"Why?"

"Because…because I won’t be useful."

"Why?"

"Because…I will be useless." He sunk his head, and stared at his legs. "I will be a burden. I would rather be dead than be a burden."

The little boy came closer to him, and looked up at him. “But….you’re not a burden, ‘Jolras. You’re my light. You’re my friend.”

"But…I can’t do what I used to do…"

"But you do other things, ‘Jolras!" the little boy grinned. "They help you because they like you. It’s not a problem that they help you. Really." 

"They just pity me, that’s all," he said. 

The little boy shook his head. “We all look up to you, so do your best, ‘Jolras!” 

He reached out to the little boy and wrapped his arms around him. “I will try.” 

……………………………

The non-urgent alarms were raised: a recording of a trumpet playing the military morning reveille. 

Enjolras groaned as he untangled himself from Grantaire, who held on to him even tighter. “No, so warm, so early…” the dark-haired co-pilot complained. 

"Good morning, ladies and gents!" the coordinator greeted. "I have it on good authority that we have cookie-butter waffles for breakfast. I repeat, cookie-butter waffles for breakfast. Limited-time offer, so if you want ‘em, get up and go get ‘em!"

Enjolras chuckled as he ruffled the curly head of hair over him.

All will be well with the world. Eventually.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the 'i should be research-proposal-ing' post, or the taichi post, or the post that unintentionally gave friends TOO MANY feels (sorry about that). Made before the 'chibi' posts, but not connected to them, so posted afterward. A little Ao3-only stuff has been added to the end. Thank you for reading.

The co-pilot disappeared from the cafeteria after breakfast. 

Enjolras found him in the battle room, standing alone in the center of the mat. He had sweatpants over a muscle shirt. The shirt contoured the torso that made Enjolras notice that Grantaire had thinned out somewhat, had flabbed somewhat and formed the beginnings of a beer belly, in the long interval that he was gone. He had ignored the fact in the evening darkness of the quarters.

He sighed. 

Grantaire’s eyes were closed as his head was bowed. Enjolras watched as Grantaire lifted his head to face the ceiling, still with closed eyes. 

The co-pilot spread his arms out straight at his sides, a desperate oblation to the heavens, as he breathed slowly and deeply. He brought his arms together overhead in a wide arc, then brought them down over his chest, in a gesture of prayer. He inhaled deeply, then sighed as he exhaled. He bent his knees while lifting his arms, then straightened them slowly while bringing his arms to his sides. 

Enjolras watched from a distance as the co-pilot spread his arms out again and widened his limbs silently. The legs bent as the arms formed gentle balls of air, which he shifted away in silence, with regular even breaths. The body followed in smooth arcs as the arms and legs bent and straightened, rose and lifted, lowered and descended, moved and swayed, following the movements of quiet breezes and still streams. The movements were slower, more deliberate, as if the mind was still trying to catch up to what the body remembered. 

He had watched him do the forms in tai chi before, many times. Grantaire used them as warm-up exercises, before practicing faster, deadlier mixed-martial-arts movements. 

He remembered trying to learn them, in mastering the movements they both used with the Patria against kaiju. But no matter how much he practiced, he only managed to do the basic eight tai chi movements, while the co-pilot could do all twenty-four comfortably. “It’s a state of mind, my light,” Grantaire told him, “not a state of will.” 

He had not realized how much he had lost him, until he saw those movements again. 

He watched the co-pilot finish the routine after a second run, by bending his knees together once more. Grantaire then stood in the center of the mat again, with lowered head and deep sighs. 

He wheeled away before the co-pilot noticed him. He stopped at the nearest corner and collected his thoughts and memories. 

He found a small packet of tissues slid under him. He looked up and found Eponine. 

"You okay, chief?" she asked. 

Enjolras smirked, as he felt the tear that had rolled down his cheek. “In a while.”

........................................

Grantaire lay down on the mat, after going through the twenty-four movements. He inhaled deeply, then exhaled for a long moment. 

So many memories, of fights with Enjolras, of having to prove his worth to the best pilot in the resistance. Of practicing movements, trying to work together with a young man who never acknowledged him, at first. Of trying to maintain a Drift synchronicity, hoping that it was not only in his head, but also in that pilot's mind and heart. Of looking up at that handsome, angry face, breathing fire down at him as drops of sweat fell. Of noticing not the failure, or the victory, he had made over the pilot, but only how strong and powerful that handsome face was. Of promising to follow that pilot to hell and back, to a kaiju world and back, and even further if the pilot wanted it. 

He closed his eyes and remembered. He remembered as he tried to forget, the moment when he was split from him. 

He opened his eyes to find the pilots of Paris Contradiction peering down at him. "You okay?" Eponine asked. 

He smiled. "Yeah. I guess." 

"Um, we were wondering," Eponine said, even as Marius cringed at the word 'we', "if you could teach us those moves we did the last time? Properly, I mean." 

He chuckled, watching Eponine look at him with excitement, and seeing Marius gulp and sigh. "Are you sure you two are Drift-compatible?" 

Eponine nodded earnestly as she blushed, while Marius glanced at Eponine, shrugged, and nodded once. 

For a split-second, he recognized that spark, that hope, he always had in the presence of the light of the resistance. It was in Eponine's earnest, dreamy eyes. He also noticed that reluctant well-meaning mind in her co-pilot, the mind Enjolras first gave him. 

"So you went through the 'audition', and you're not related," Grantaire said. "Is she really your friend, new guy?" 

"Of course!" Marius protested. 

He now understood the situation, and sighed at how much it mirrored his own. The memories wafted through him. "So, more or less, you have the same mind."

Both of them nodded. 

"But, it seems you don't have the same heart," he explained. "At least, not yet." 

Eponine blushed again. Marius stared at Eponine. 

"Do you dance, Marius?" he asked, with a sly grin. 

"Badly, with two left feet," Marius said as he sunk his head. 

"Ah, well." Grantaire sat up and jumped to his feet. "Let's try tai chi, then, kids. Should also help with coordination." 

He sighed and caught his breath. He remembered, but wanted to forget. 

But monsters were still at their doorstep, and he swore never to let it happen to two well-meaning newbies. Not if he had anything to say about it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is compiling the next wave of dream-sequence stuff. I'm sorry for having such a messed-up brain. 
> 
> trigger warning for suicide attempt.

_Grantaire stood in a clearing, armed only with his legs in the jogging pants, his bare arms, and a straight long fighting pole. He practiced his movements, the bare-hand muay-thai and the straight-stick techniques._

_It saddened him how weak he felt, even as his body knew how to move._

_Then he heard the growls, the snarls, the roars._

_He looked around and gulped. Approaching from the back was a category-two kaiju, shrunk to his size, still as deadly and noisy. Appearing at the front was a category-three, a foot higher than he was tall, with a powerful front horn and a strong tail._

_"R!" a small voice called out._

_His heart thumped. A few feet from him stood the little but spunky class leader, with his proud air and little red jacket._

_He ran up to the little boy. “Why are you here?” His heart pounded and his forehead got soaked in sweat. “G-g-go somewhere s-s-safe, now!”_

_"You can take them down, can’t you?" the little boy asked._

_"I-I-I-i can’t!" He curled into a small ball and trembled. "They’ll tear you apart! They’ll throw you into the sea! They’ll ruin your back! They’ll kill you!"_

_"Not if I can help it!" the boy declared and readied his fists with an angry determined glare at the monsters._

_"I can’t get you hurt! I can’t get you killed! I can’t! I can’t I can’t!" He rocked back and forth, covering his ears from the kaiju’s screams and roars._

_The monsters continued to approach._

_Suddenly he felt small hands grab at his cheeks._

_"Listen, big R! You are better than you think! You are smarter than you think! And you are definitely braver than you think!"_

_"None of that is true…." he mumbled through the squashed cheeks._

_"You can fight them! Don’t you dare disappoint me!"_

_"Such big words for a little boy!" he chuckled through his pounding heart and trembling arms._

_The cheeks were squashed even tighter. “I am NOT a little kid!”_

………………………

His eyes opened with a snap along with a gasp from his lips, his cheeks still hurting from the pressure of a hand over each. The pilot glared inches away from his face and breathed hot air over his nose. 

"What the hell did you do? What the hell did you take?" the light asked him, the fire in his nostrils hot over Grantaire’s face. 

"Nothing," he answered through the haze of drowsiness. "Nothing, I swear. Maybe a few beers….but…" 

"Your definition of a few is a multiplier, not a unit," Enjolras declared. He removed his hands from the cheeks. "Are you alright?" 

"Yes…I think…." Grantaire said. "Something wrong?" 

Enjolras sighed, and sank back over Grantaire’s chest. He caught his breath. His sweat dampened the already-damp undershirt. "Don’t scare me like that," he said, heaving and trembling. But not explaining. 

....................................................

That was two days ago. 

Before they attempted another simulation with the Drift Singularity. 

.................................................... 

 

_He felt a vigorous shaking at his shoulder by two little hands. But even in the vagueness, he was too tired, too sleepy, to open his eyes._

_"R!" the chirpy voice of the little leader screamed into his ears, as the boy continued shaking him. "Wake up, R!"_

_He could not. He did not want to, anyway. He felt too tired, too tired of trying, tired of always failing, tired of waking up to sleep again._

_"R! Grantaire! Hey! You’re scaring me right now!" The furious shaking and yanking continued._

………………………………

Enjolras cursed the loss of the synchronized Drift. He placed fingers over his temples and forced himself to concentrate, but all he could muster was his own panic, his own thoughts, his own mind. 

He watched in helpless frustration as Joly swooped around the co-pilot, unconscious on the steel gurney. The medic attached this tube to that hole and that wire connected to that machine and this sensor connected to that other machine. 

The co-pilot had been found in a closet, after it was noticed that no one had seen him after an attempt at the simulator. In his hand was a bottle of pills, open and spilling its contents. 

"I am not that kind of doctor, I am NOT that kind of doctor…" Joly muttered over and over as he turned dials and checked readouts. 

"Yes, you are…" Enjolras interrupted. 

"Fearless leader, you don’t know what you’re talking about!" the medic said. "I’m trained as an internist. I know how much activated charcoal to fill down his throat. I know when to give him Levophed and when to give him the dopamine. But for goodness’ sake, chief! This is the second attempt! I only know diazepam, I don’t know when it’s supposed to be sertraline or alprazolam or lithium or…." 

"I don’t understand," Enjolras said. 

The medic paused and walked toward the chief, wringing his hands. He stood before the wheelchair. “Enjolras! I am not a psychiatrist! I am not a shrink!” he exclaimed in sheer frustration. “This is the second suicide attempt. This is getting very serious, and is very beyond me.”

Enjolras let his head fall back onto the chair. He sighed. “What….what do we do?” 

"I don’t know," Joly admitted. "We’re the resistance. The shrinks won’t come to us."

The light asked again. “What do we do?”

"I don’t know," the doctor said again.

………………………………

_”R!” The little voice kept shouting to him, keeping him aware of the immediate surroundings, in a drowsy way, despite trying to sleep forever. “Grantaire! Wake up!”_

_He groaned. He did not open his eyes._

_"Come on! Wake up!" the boy prodded._

_"Go…away…" he managed to mutter, weakly._

_"No! I’m not leaving, R! You’re my friend, and I’m staying! I’m staying until you wake up!"_

_He felt himself slipping into a sleep without waking, but the little boy held him back. The boy held him tightly, his two little hands around his large wrist._

_"I’m not letting you go! You’re staying with me! We have to fight the monsters together, remember!"_

_He surfaced for a moment from the drowsiness. He sighed and gave a weak smile, as he felt the sinking, the pulling down. He yielded to the sinking, to the drowning, held back by the little hands around his wrist._

_"Keep….trying…..my….light," he said._

_Maybe he would listen._

...................................

_Enjolras found him inside the playground slide, between the slide and the ladder. The little boy was curled up into a very small ball, asleep, or unconscious, pale and shivering. The boy only had a thin shirt and the school shorts on to defend against the rising cool of the approaching evening._

_He wheeled himself as near the boy as possible, but the little boy was wedged in too far for him to reach, even without the wheelchair. If he did nothing, the boy was almost certain to die of hypothermia or pneumonia. But he could not think of a way to do something. "You know, little R, you have to help me out here," he said, not knowing what else to say._

_Then, he heard a quiet little whimper, from under the slide._

_There was hope. Just a little. Just a bit to work on._

_"Can you hear me, my friend? Open your eyes if you can hear me."_

_He heard another little whimper._

_"That’s a good start, my little friend," he said. He held out a hand. "Come on out. It’s getting chilly there. I’ll take you home."_

_The boy curled up into a tighter ball._

_He leaned forward, bringing his hand closer to the boy. “I know you’re scared. Come. Come with me. I’ll keep you from the monsters.”_

_He saw the small head of dark curls turn back and forth._

_"Please, little R. I’ll keep you safe. I promise. Come with me."_

_The dark head shook again, back and forth._

_"Please?"_

_The boy uncurled a bit. The head looked up at him for a moment._

_"That’s it." He held out his hand again. "Take my hand."_

_He watched as a small paw slowly emerged and held his hand. The little hand was already cold. He immediately wrapped his large hand around the little one._

_"Good, little R," he said. "Come with me."_

_He kept holding the little hand as the boy fully uncurled, as the boy slowly, weakly, crawled out toward him._

_As soon as the dark curly head appeared, he lifted the little boy up, and carried him over his chest. The little curly head leaned on his shoulder._

_The little boy was shivering from a fever. He draped his jacket over the little boy’s back, hiding him inside it._

_"It’s okay, my little friend." He patted the dark curls. "I’m here. I’m here. I’ll always be here."_

_The little boy nuzzled his head against the shoulder, falling asleep contentedly._

_"I’ll never let you go," he promised._

…………………………

He felt an insistent nudge at his shoulder. 

"Enjolras. Chief?" 

He opened his eyes and yawned. He looked up at a bleary-eyed Joly. 

"Did you do that Drift thing again?" the medic asked. 

"I….don’t know, really," he said. He looked at the co-pilot, whose right hand he still held. The co-pilot was pale and gave out shallow breaths. "Is he going to be alright?" 

"He’s out of danger….finally." Joly wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. "But, seriously, chief. I can’t keep doing this. I don’t know how many more times I can save him from the brink. There must be a better way." 

Enjolras sighed, and agreed. “Only he knows it, though.” 

.......................................

He woke up to racked sobs. 

"Why? Why? Why?" It was repeated over and over, between bouts of trembling and uncontrollable sobbing. "Why? Why? Why?" 

He sat up quickly. The co-pilot was curled up on his side, tears falling onto the bed. The tubes and wires had been pulled away. There was blood on his nose where he had pulled the nasogastric tube, and more drying blood on the back of a hand where the intravenous line used to be. 

"Why? Why? Why?" the co-pilot wailed again. "I’m not made for heaven, why do you keep hell from me?"  
Enjolras did not know what to do. He slowly lowered his hand onto the co-pilot’s shoulder. 

But the hand was swiped away. “Get away from me. Get away from me!” the co-pilot said as he continued to cry, loud and pained. 

"But…Grantaire…" 

"Just go already, SIR!" the co-pilot begged, his upper body racking from the sobs. "Get away from me!" 

Enjolras withdrew the hand, but did not leave. He remained where he was, confused, bewildered. 

"Why? Why am I still here? Why did you bring me back? Fuck you! Fuck all of you! What did I ever do to deserve this? I don’t deserve this! Why do you keep pulling me back! What do I need to do to get rid of you, of all of you! Damn you! Damn you!"

Joly came rushing in, hearing the noise. But Enjolras raised a hand, and Joly fell silent. Enjolras, however, was as pale as he. 

The tirade continued. “Why didn’t I die then? Why? It should have been me! Why didn’t they kill me! Why, dammit, why?!”

Joly bent toward a table, then faced Enjolras again, now armed with a syringe filled with a clear liquid. His mouth smirked into a question. Enjolras shook his head.

"Is everything alright in the medical bay?" Combeferre also asked, through the PA system.

"Get away from me! All of you fucking nice people! Get away from me!" the co-pilot screamed, covering his ears with his hands and curling into a tighter ball.

Enjolras raised a hand toward the CCTV camera for the center to see, also begging for quiet. 

"Get away from me," the co-pilot said, losing strength, his upper body still racked with crying. "Why do you all care about me. Why didn’t they kill me. Why do you keep pulling me back. Why. Why, dammit. Why."

Enjolras sighed, and let him weep. 

....................................

When the sobs and the dazed sleeping ended, the aimless wanderings around the base resumed. 

Grantaire walked everywhere and nowhere in the base, stopping at intervals to stare at jaegers or mechanics or the open sea outside a window. Marius had been ordered to keep an eye on him from a safe distance; the poor young man was getting tired of following the aimless wandering. 

"You can stop, Marius," Grantaire turned and said with a heavy sigh. 

"No way, Grantaire," the earnest newbie told him. 

"I'm heading to the canteen and staying there," he said. "Go." 

Marius stepped forward. He drew out a hand, but paused at actually touching him. "I'll....see you at practice tomorrow?" 

"I dunno." He sighed. "Maybe." 

"Please, R. We do like you...." 

"Just....go already, newbie, please. I promise to stay in one piece...until tomorrow." 

................................................. 

"Why are you on self-destruct mode?" Enjolras asked the young man, sprawled over a table surrounded by empty beer cans and bottles. 

Grantaire, buzzed and foggy from the alcohol, barely lifted his head. “Why do you even care?” 

"This is all just alcohol, right? Nothing else?" 

The co-pilot smiled bitterly, his cheek on the cold table. “I think. It doesn’t matter. I’m sleepy. You’re all never going to let me die, anyway, so at least let me sleep.” 

Enjolras frowned. “Where are the pills?”

The co-pilot’s eyes closed. “Joly took ‘em. I think it was him. What does it matter.”

"You matter."

"I don’t. I don’t. Not to you."

"Not true."

"I just happen to synch best with you. No more. No less," he drawled, his face not leaving the steel table. "Give it a while, Marius can synch with you as well as Eponine. He thinks the world of you. You don’t need me, light. You don’t."

Enjolras pounded at his armrests. “Will you stop saying that!” 

A bottle toppled as Grantaire rested an arm over the table, hiding his head. “Useless. Always. To you.” 

He grew silent as he fell into a drunken stupor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art for these sequences from the awesome K are here and [here](http://kannibal.tumblr.com/post/62552057966/from-eks-pacrim-au-but-it-goes-both-ways-and).


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the lack of recent updates. Been typing either original stuff or creative nonfiction (AKA: fixing contest-level case report). 
> 
> Thanks for still reading.

He woke up with a massive hangover and the last vestiges of effects of too many pieces of valium. He groaned as he opened his eyes. Everything hurt. Everything felt weak. Everything felt. 

That was the hardest to accept: having to feel. 

He could not remember how or when he managed to reach the bunk bed he was on, his own. 

He slowly sat up, and hit his head on the top bunk. He sighed. He also felt that. He felt the pounding ache on his head. He felt the breath of the sigh. He still felt. 

He groaned again and planted his feet on the floor, while holding his head at the bump. 

"Good morning." 

The greeting was clipped, firm. It came from the wheelchair a foot away from the bed. 

Grantaire groaned and raised a hand to acknowledge. 

"We practice." 

Grantaire slowly lifted his head. With bleary eyes he found a pilot with arms folded at the chest, glaring at him. 

"We practice," the pilot repeated. 

"Please," Grantaire said, dragging and drawling. "No more." 

"I insist." 

"It won’t work. You already know that," he said, almost in a whisper. 

"We try again." 

His voice came soft, desperate, faltering. “Please. Enjolras. No.” 

But Enjolras growled and grabbed the nearest hand. “You have no consent in this matter. You will do as I say. Now get up.” 

"Why." 

The pilot yanked him off the bed. “Get up. Shower. Get in there." The pilot gave his first order. 

Grantaire stared blankly and dazedly at him. 

"Take a shower. Now," Enjolras repeated. 

Grantaire stared for a long moment, then sunk his head and shook it. “Sleep. Still tired. Let me sleep,” he said. 

"Did you hear what I said," Enjolras barked. "You have no consent in this matter. You are a danger to yourself, and to others. Many of your rights have been temporarily suspended. Now get up and do as I say." 

"Says who." 

"Says me. Says Joly. Says Combeferre and Courfeyrac," Enjolras said. "If you do not comply, back into the medical bay you go."

"No prob." The co-pilot shrugged. 

"That is not the point!" Enjolras snapped.

"Then what is."

"That you are important to me, to us. And we will save you from yourself, with or without you."

"Who asked you."

"I am not asking. I am declaring."

"You’re just a barking dog now," Grantaire said flatly. "That’s all you’re good for now."

Silence.

A long silence. 

Too long. 

The silence turned too painful that Grantaire raised his head. 

Enjolras had bowed his head, staring at his legs, his arms on his lap, his hands, clenched into tight, shaking fists. The breaths were tight, controlled, close to weeping.

Grantaire gasped and sighed. “I….am sorry. That was uncalled-for.” He looked away. 

Another long silence. 

Then Enjolras slammed his forearms over the armrests. 

"Get up!" he said. 

It was with such force and ferocity that Grantaire suddenly obeyed.

The pilot pointed to the shower. “Get in there!”

Grantaire sighed and dragged his feet to the bathroom.

Enjolras gripped the armrests. “I am not useless!” he declared. “And neither are you! I will prove it to you, as you will prove it to me! Do you understand! Do you fucking understand!”

Grantaire sighed and shook his head.

"I will not accept a negative answer! You are not useless! I am not useless! Do You Understand!"

Grantaire smiled gently. “Yes, my light.” 

He disappeared into the bathroom. 

.............................................

Enjolras dragged Grantaire through many mundane tasks of the day: checking on the status of operations with Combeferre and Courfeyrac; getting a pulse of the entire base by going through its expanse and talking to various people; eating a rapid breakfast, snack, and lunch in between; answering various media-related email, snail-mail, and telephone interviews; reading through the news, both on paper and on the internet.

He merely asked the co-pilot to do simple things for him: to push the wheelchair, to pick up papers, to stand beside while he talked to people. Grantaire’s part was generally mindless, brainless small tasks. But it kept him thinking of other things besides himself. It helped him forget the tiredness. He had nothing to complain about. 

As the afternoon turned into the evening, Enjolras faced him. “Come.” 

"Where?" he blankly asked. 

"The hangar." 

He shrugged and pushed the chair through the wide expanse, crossing past Paris Contradiction and Flash Corinthian, as well as the smaller fighter robots and machines. 

They stopped at the feet of Drift Singularity. They found Gavroche whistling while doing some minor repairs. The pilot gestured for the young mechanic to come down with the lift. 

"Take us up to the cockpit," Enjolras said. 

Grantaire glared at the pilot as he paled. 

Gavroche looked between both of them. “Are you sure, chief?” 

"Yes, I am sure." 

"But…" 

"Take us up, Gavroche." 

"Okay. You’re the chief." He looked toward a pale and sweating Grantaire. "Sorry, my friend. Direct orders." 

Grantaire sighed and stared up at the tall, powerful jaeger looming beside him. His heart pounded in its ribcage. 

Enjolras wheeled himself onto the lift. He reached a hand out toward Grantaire. 

"Come." 

The co-pilot looked at him, at Gavroche, at the lift, at the whole height of the new-old-recycled jaeger. He had seen it before, of course, several times. But the implication of the singular word made his feet sweat in his shoes. 

"Come." 

His thoughts flooded with so many memories across so many nano-seconds, so many milliseconds. He remembered Enjolras screaming, flying into open sky, falling into open sea. He remembered his own screams, his numbness, his helplessness. 

"Hold my hand," the pilot said. 

Grantaire’s hand trembled as it moved forward, slowly, with hesitation. 

Enjolras found the hand. He grasped it firmly in his own. He gently pulled him forward. 

"We’re doing this together, my friend," he reminded him. "You and me." 

Grantaire gulped, sighed, and nodded. 

"Now, come."


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still here. Not sure why. That's all you need to know.

Enjolras held the co-pilot’s hand as the lift brought them up to the cockpit. Grantaire grimly kept his lips pursed together, staring at the Drift Singulariity’s massive back. 

Gavroche pressed buttons and turned levers, opening the section of the cockpit. Grantaire gulped. 

"Get in," Enjolras sternly said. 

Grantaire turned to him. “But…” 

"You have no choice in this matter. Get in." 

Grantaire took a deep breath, and, still holding the light’s hand, took a step off the lift platform. 

Grantaire’s hand sweated as it kept clasping Enjolras’s, but he could not let go. They silently walked behind Gavroche as he toured them through the new cockpit. 

The view window and the display field were retained, with modifications to accommodate new technology acquired in the last two years. The escape hatch was in its usual place, the communicators were in their normal places.

The positioning for the two pilots had changed, though. Instead of aligned side-by-side, they were now placed one after another, in tandem formation. Enjolras was now near at the rear of the cockpit, with a full display panel within immediate reach, with an easy sight of the view window. The controls for the leg hydraulics were removed. The arm hydraulics had been modified to be lighter, but finer in their responses. Grantaire was now in front, in full control of leg hydraulics and majority control of the arm hydraulics. 

In the old-new tandem jaeger, Grantaire pedaled the machine, while Enjolras steered it. 

"The cockpit has also been reinforced with heavier steel plating. We’ve had good research from Jehan about the steel claws, plus some good info from that crazy kaiju geek with the Hong Kong team," Gavroche explained. "I swear I’m not gonna let that happen again," he said with clenched teeth. 

Enjolras nodded. Grantaire smiled at the young mechanic. 

Then he gulped again. 

"Courfeyrac!" Enjolras shouted into the intercom. "Set us up. We’re taking a stroll." 

"What?!" he protested. 

"We have to practice," Enjolras calmly said. 

"Don’t do this, Enjolras!" Grantaire wailed as Gavroche strapped him down into place, buckling feet and hands, hooking up the Drift capacitor. 

"We must. While we have time," Enjolras said while putting his legs onto the restraints and arranging the control panel before himself. 

"Five minutes to open hatch, light," the coordinator spoke through the audio system. "Your jaeger lifts will be ready in two." 

Gavroche hooked up the Drift capacitor to Enjolras’s neck and waved at both pilots. “Don’t forget the feedback, okay!” 

"Gavroche, you traitor!" Grantaire shouted as the young mechanic closed the cockpit. "No beer for you!" 

"Don’t forget, pal, you agreed to go up the lift!" the boy replied with a chuckle. The lift moved away from the jaeger, as it started up its rotors and engines. 

"Eighty percent compatibility reached, Enjolras, eighty-five, ninety," Courfeyrac intoned. "Ninety-one, two, three…" 

"Don’t do this, Enjolras, I beg you," Grantaire pleaded again as the warning sirens blared the opening of the exit hatch. 

"You already know what is in my head, and I know what is in yours," Enjolras said. "There is much to fear, but we’ll face it together, do you hear me?" 

"All systems and weapons intact and ready to go," Courfeyrac said. "Jaeger lifts now attached. Only 98-percent Drift alignment. Do you want to proceed?"

"NO!" the co-pilot begged. 

"R. Look at me," Enjolras ordered. 

The command in that voice made Grantaire turn to face him. The monitors reflected a rapid heartbeat and panted breathing. 

"I am here. Focus on me," the light ordered. "I am here. Focus. I am here. I am with you. I am here."

Grantaire stared at him for many seconds, willing his heart to believe. “I don’t want it to happen again.” 

"It won’t. Now focus. I am here. You are here. With me. Together." 

The compatibility displays turned blue and brightened. 

"Give us the Drift, coordinator," Enjolras said. 

They both braced themselves for the sudden and overwhelming pulling forces as they connected. 

…………………………..

"R? You okay?" a commanding little voice asked. 

Little Grantaire did not dare look up, and kept his head hidden between his arms and knees. There were monsters everywhere, in every color and shape, and he was alone and small. 

"R? Hey, I’m here! Take my hand!" the little voice said. 

"Don’t wanna," he told him between sniffles. "I’m scaaaared." 

"I’m scared, too, you know," the boy said. "But it’s better if we’re together." 

Little Grantaire sniffled. He lifted his head just a bit, and found class leader Enjolras standing before him. 

The boy took his hand and held it. The hand was cold and clammy. 

"Come on, R! Let’s go!" the little leader said. "You and me." 

Little Grantaire allowed himself to be pulled up. They stood together, hand in hand. 

……………………………

"Grantaire," a grown-up pilot called him, both from his helmet and his mind. "I’m here." 

The co-pilot took a deep breath. “Yeah,” he answered simply. 

They focused quietly together as the jaeger rose from the hanger, lifted out of the base and into the sea. 

Grantaire focused on the arm and leg controls, feeling their weight and strength. The pneumatics felt the same as before. They felt more responsive to his thoughts and movements. He felt the weight that had been removed from Enjolras’s pneumatic controls, moved into his own, but augmented with more powerful mechanics. It felt the same, but different. 

It was hard to explain, but he felt Enjolras, not beside him, as before, nor simply behind him, as now. Rather, the Drift made him feel the pilot’s presence surrounding him, filling him n a warm embrace, holding his arms and feet in place. He was assured and secured in that presence, from every direction. 

He muttered grateful curses against the young mechanic’s talent, the coordinator’s kindness, the center’s wisdom, the mathematician’s skill, the doctor’s attention, the light’s being. 

He was in a jaeger, and with Enjolras, and with all his friends around him. It was not so bad.

He smiled as the jaeger’s legs hit the water, as the jaeger’s body felt the sea breeze.

It was good to be back in a jaeger again, he decided.

………………………………….

But. 

A loud ping was heard.

The display showed the center’s name, clear in all-caps red. “I have good news and bad news, gentlemen,” Combeferre’s voice resonated through the cockpit.

Enjolras rapidly checked the displays. His breath caught. Two kaiju were in their five-kilometer radius. One category 2 slogging through the water, one category 3 swimming in quickly.

He glanced downward at his co-pilot. Grantaire had begun to freeze. 

"I may be looking at your bad news, center," the light said, forcing calm into his speech. "What’s the good news?" 

He heard a deep, quiet chuckle from the audio system. “I have the two best pilots out there already, on a newly-refurbished jaeger.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final part is NSFW. 
> 
> Sorry for the delay. But I'm still here. You'll hear from K if ever that is no longer true. 
> 
> Some of you may know I've been typing at the seminarian and wanderer story thing. Otherwise I've been busy and tired one way or another. Thank you for reading and sharing and all that.

Grantaire readily played the soundtrack of his brain. _You can’t do it, not anymore. You are weak. You are useless. You are powerless. You should not be here. You deserve to be dead. This is a big and horrible mistake…._

"Grantaire!"

_You have nothing to offer. You are weak, and pathetic, and useless…_

"Grantaire!"

_They are the voices of people who believe in something they no longer should. Not now, not ever. Not for a long time to come. He is one who loves one as one loves a fractured bird, a broken dog. With pity. Not as an equal….._

"Grantaire! Focus! Three o’clock! Grantaire!"

A monster shot up from the right of Drift Singularity, hitting them directly on the shoulder with its skull, toppling them backward. It followed with a whack of its long tail, whipping the left side of the jaeger through the chest. Drift Singularity fell back onto its rear, splashing heavily into the water.

The soundtrack played even louder. _You’re weak! Useless! Hopeless! Why are you even here! He just took pity! He just took pity! He doesn’t love you! Not at all! Not one bit!_

He shut his eyes, tried to drown out the noise in his head. 

The slower Category 2 rolled in like a tank, driving its thick horn through the jaeger’s limbs. Grantaire screamed, as the pneumatics registered the attack. The faster Category 3 whipped its tail over the torso, send electric shocks through the cockpit.

 _I want it to end. Let it end. Leave me alone. Let me go. I hold you back. Cut me loose. I cannot help you. Let me die._

Enjolras heard and felt every note of the terrible mental soundtrack. “NO, Grantaire. Don’t listen to those words. They are not real. They are not you.”

But Grantaire had fully stopped functioning. He breathed heavily between screams of pain coming from the pneumatics and electricals.

"Center!" Enjolras called out. "I do have a gun, right?" 

"Confirmed," spoke Combeferre through the system. "Laser. Right hip." 

"Give me the arms and hands!" Enjolras ordered. 

The sounds of keyboard-clacking and transmitting were heard. “Reconfigured, light,” reported Courfeyrac. 

Enjolras felt the weight of the upper-arm pneumatic transfer to him, heavy and muscular….like his panicking friend. “I’m sorry, R, but let me handle this one,” he said. “Hands together.” 

Grantaire opened his eyes, turned, and blinked at him dazedly. “What?” 

"Do as I say. Don’t think. Hands together, arms straight." 

He obeyed. 

"Pistol hands." Enjolras then aimed at the Category 3. "Now, FIRE!" 

A straight beam penetrated the kaiju’s left eye and pierced its brain. With a shift of aim he fired a second beam at the Category 2. Then fired again, and again, and again, through its thick armor-plated scaly shell.

He fired several more holes into the kaiju’s body until the sea grew red with alien reptile blood, then he shifted to put holes into the Category 3’s heart and lungs. 

With dying throes and screeches of agony, two kaiju disentangled themselves from the Drift Singularity, as they sank into the sandy sea floor. 

The jaeger sat on the seabed, drenched in kaiju blood and alien fluids. In its right hand, it held the laser pistol. 

Both the control room and the cockpit remained silent. 

………………………………………..

"Grantaire."

He did not open his eyes. He did not deserve to open them, to look at the face of the pilot he admired beyond anything he ever knew. He had failed him. Again. As he will fail him, again and again. 

He felt the hand on his cheek. He felt the breath over an ear. “I need you. I do. I need you. You must believe this.”

He did not open his eyes. He did not believe. 

"You anchor me. You keep me level. You keep me grounded. When you were gone I was lost, drifting. I need this. I need you."

He felt a kiss placed over his cheek.

"It is not pity that makes me do this. For I know that you despise pity. I do this as I would for any of my comrades, for any of my equals. But you are not my equal."

He felt a kiss over his ear.

"You are not my equal, for you are more than I am. You think it is not so. But it is. You are, in all things, more than I am. And I need you. I need you. It is you that I need. Nothing else. You."

The pilot’s lips pressed against his own. The lips savored his, taking in his lips and tasting them various ways. 

He did not understand what was going on. He did not want to open his eyes to find out. He merely kissed him back, tasting his lips in return, meat and beer and gravy.

He felt the pilot’s body groan as it slowly shifted and maneuvered beside him, after lifting legs one by one near him. The pilot lay beside him, and he felt his warmth. 

He let the pilot turn his own body until their chests were close enough to feel each beat. He let the pilot loosen his pants.

He felt the pilot’s hand wrap around his shaft. The hand was large and warm and capable. He felt another warmth beside his shaft, then wrapped together with the warm hand. He felt a tingle rise through his being. He brought his hand, and placed it over the pilot’s hand. 

He still refused to open his eyes.

It was slow, full of complaining, as the pilot tried to rise and fall to rub them together, but his lower body would not cooperate. 

He gently rocked his hips, keeping the hands in place, keeping the shafts in place. He heard a gentle sigh from the pilot, followed by a kiss to his lips. He maintained the rhythm, as he felt himself stiffening, as he felt the same in the pilot.

The pace increased, and he felt the warmth turn into heat. The pilot’s other hand was now over his jawline, keeping his face in one position as he was repeatedly kissed. Sweat soaked his chest and arms, as he kept returning the kisses, as he kept the rising speed. He felt the stiffness fill himself, as he felt it in the pilot.

They kissed together, they panted together, they moved together. Their hearts beat the rising pace together.

He felt the hardness mount up inside him, and a urgent, desperate need to be free of it. He knew the pilot now felt the same. He was full, ready to burst.

"You are my wholeness, the darkness to my light," the pilot said. "Let us be one, together."

He agreed.

So he released, trembling with the pleasure, feeling the similar simultaneous trembling pleasure in the pilot as he too surrendered. He felt the pilot’s arms and body wrap around him, as the need to descend into a pleasurable darkness began to surround him.

"I need you. Never forget. Always remember," Enjolras said.

He sank into the darkness, into a deep and profound sleep, not having opened his eyes, still disbelieving.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wherein depressing stuff is to be had. Ah well. I probably shouldn't be reading through Akutagawa Ryunosuke's depressing portfolio, I suppose. 
> 
> Thank you for still reading. You'll hear from K if ever there will be no future posts, for other reasons besides the fact that this story is indeed starting to wind down.

He refused to get out of bed. It was very easy to sleep, to stay asleep. 

"Grantaire. We have to practice. Now." Enjolras barked by the side of the double-deck. 

The co-pilot did not reply. He curled up even more and threw the blanket over his head. 

"What did I say about you having no choice in this matter?" 

He began to drift back to sleep. It was quite easy just then. He still had a choice. He just made it. 

All other ways to shut out the world had been taken away. All medications were out of reach, even those for Enjolras. All alcoholic beverages were in the cafeteria. All sharp and corded things were out of reach. The air vent was centralized; he could not manipulate it to reverse and send carbon monoxide or nitrogen or carbon dioxide instead. So he decided to sleep. Not eat or drink anything. Just sleep. It was easy, being so tired, and weak, and useless. 

He still had a choice. He made it. 

Time passed. Hours, probably, he could not tell. He had been asleep for a while. 

"R?" Eponine’s voice. "Eat something?" 

He kept his back to everyone, kept facing the wall. He was not hungry. He wanted to sleep. 

She sighed and left. He went back to sleep. 

More time passed. 

"Grantaire? Joly is asking if you have a cold." Marius, this time. 

No, he did not have a cold. But he did not want to talk to anyone either. 

The general noise of the base subdued. 

He knew evening had come, because Enjolras settled into bed beside him again. 

"Grantaire. Talk to me. Tell me what is the matter," the pilot said. He wrapped an arm around his waist. 

Everything was the matter. Everything. He was tired, and weak, and faint. He just wanted to sleep. He sighed. He kept his back to the pilot, and did not reply. He yawned, and allowed the sleep to claim him. 

.................................

The day ended. A new one started.

He knew he had been in bed a whole day, yet he still felt tired, fatigued, and drowsy. He wanted them, all of them, to leave him alone. If he faded away slowly, if he died in his sleep, it would not matter much to him. 

"Get up, Grantaire," Enjolras ordered, gently shaking him at the shoulder. 

He groaned and curled up into a tighter ball. 

"Don’t make me pull you out of bed," the pilot added. 

He did not care what the pilot did or did not do to him. Everything ached and felt weak. He wanted to sleep. He would go back to sleep, no matter what everyone else said, whatever anyone did. 

He sank back to slumber, to darkness, letting the hours pass without him. 

……………………………………

Enjolras settled into the bed he had not left. The pilot slowly lifted his legs up onto the bed. He wrapped his arm around Grantaire’s waist. 

"Talk to me. I insist," the pilot said. 

He did not want to talk about anything. He just wanted to keep his eyes closed and not look at him. 

"That last fight? None of it was your fault. You hear me?" Enjolras said. "You panicked, but that is all. It does not mean that it was your fault. Stop blaming yourself for that fight, or any other battle. Do you understand?"

He did not.

No matter how he tried to tell it otherwise, his brain kept telling him _It was all your fault, your fault, your fault! You are useless and weak!_

He shut his eyes tighter and pried away the pilot’s arms. He did not deserve to be told such things. He did not deserve understanding, even pity. He did not deserve anything. All he was good for was to take up air and space. All he could do properly was sleep. He was tired and weak. He wanted to go back to sleep. 

Suddenly a powerful force rocked the compound. 

Enjolras knocked his head onto the wall. The wheelchair rolled several feet before it toppled. 

It was not a strong earthquake. Clearly it was a terrible force coming not from deep in the earth, but from ground level, pushing at the structure and shaking it to its foundations. 

The emergency alarms were immediately raised and blared. Rapid footfall was heard crossing the halls. 

"All hands on deck!" Combeferre’s voice resounded through the speakers, calm but urgent. "Man the battle stations! All available jaegers are to deploy! I repeat, all available jaegers are to deploy!" 

Another forceful rocking of the base was felt. 

Grantaire cowered on the bed. Enjolras allowed himself to fall onto the floor, then dragged himself toward the wheelchair. 

"All jaegers are to deploy," Combeferre repeated. "Drift Singularity must deploy. We have a category 4 at Ground Zero, and we need to wrench it off! Drift Singularity, acknowledge!"

"I can’t, I can’t, I can’t!" Grantaire spoke, his voice cracked and weak.

"I have no choice, pal, I’m so sorry!" the center said. "Do you want this base to fall into the water?" 

"Of….course not," he admitted. 

"Fight for us, Grantaire," Combeferre said over the speakers, kind yet urgent. "We need you." 

He finally opened his eyes, now matted from so much sleep, and turned his head. He was just in time to see Enjolras roll from one end of the room to the other, as the base was shaken once again. 

"If you have to die, die as one of us, as a member of the resistance," Combeferre said. "You are NOT a coward, and I will not let you die as a coward. Now, please get up here, and hurry."


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ends soon.

It was so easy for the center to say such a thing, Grantaire thought. But Combeferre had never been a coward in his life. Grantaire, no matter what the center said, had always been one. 

He curled up even tighter, covering his head with his hands, muffling the screeching roars, the blaring alarm, the booming, the crashing. His own mind added to the pounding: _You can’t help! You’re worthless! You’re useless! He doesn’t need you! You don’t need you!_ Dust from the ceiling dislodged and fell onto the floor, covering the floor, the chair, and Enjolras. 

Enjolras managed to creep to his wheelchair and lift himself into it, after many noisily-complained attempts. Still Grantaire did not stir from his place, as he trembled.

"Come on, Grantaire!" Enjolras shouted above the noise. "I can’t run a jaeger alone!"

"Assume tactical," Grantaire muttered. "I’ll get us killed." 

"We need every man for this fight, don’t you understand!"

"You don’t need this one."

"Yes, we do!"

Combeferre interrupted the exchange. “Enjolras, to control room, now. Enjolras to control room.”

Grantaire sighed. “Go. They need the light.”

"I need you!"

"Go."

Enjolras breathed a deep sigh. Then he turned the wheelchair toward the door, exiting it. 

................................

Grantaire heard every communication from the control room. 

"Fire the cannons. Fire at will!" 

"Reload! Reload!" 

"Targeting all cannons." Courfeyrac. 

"Deflect our firepower away from us. Always toward the monster." 

"Of course, center!" 

"All available hands, take our guns to the monster." Enjolras. 

"We have injured in level 1!" Joly. 

"I can't connect to Hong Kong!" Jehan. 

By some mistake or other, Combeferre maintained the settings to public, such that everyone on the base heard everything. 

"It's too big, center, and too tough!" Eponine. 

"We've tried what we know! This thing won't budge!" Marius. 

"We've wounded his side, center, but he's a stubborn one." Bahorel. 

"He won't let go of the base!" Feuilly. 

"Keep…..Just keep at it." Enjolras. 

"Where is Drift Singularity!" Bahorel. 

"R!" 

Grantaire covered his ears and bent his knees. 

"Don't add to the guy's stress, 'Ponine!" Marius. 

"Patch us to R, center!" 

"Eponine! Stop it! Do YOUR job!" 

"Grantaire! Help us!" 

A loud terrifying roar was heard throughout the base. The base was rocked with a strong whip of a tail, shaken to its core. 

The lights flickered. Strong static hissed through the PA speakers. 

"Paris Contradiction! Respond!" 

More strong, loud static. 

"Flash Corinthian! Status!" 

Bahorel's voice came in crackled bursts of static. "Contradiction…..hit….in arm. Running…..out of fuel….center…." 

Another loud alien screech, followed by the heavy splash of water. 

The lights went out. The PA remained, just barely. 

"Is everyone alright? Stick to your posts. This….this thing will not beat us. We're fighting to the last man." Enjolras. 

Grantaire sighed, and uncurled. They were all so noisy, so impossible to ignore. 

He took a deep breath as he rose from bed. 

Oh, hell. Fine. Fine. 

You seek your last man. Here he is. Now shut up. 

Still in the shirt and pajamas he slept in for days, he began to trudge through the halls, toward the hangar. 

His brain kept him in a daze, asleep in a half-dream while awake, keeping the pain and terror at bay. His feet knew the way to the hangar, even if he did not order them where to go. His legs walked him through the darkness. 

He felt the vestiges of a corrected, removed, tight connection, pulling him to his fate. 

\- That's it, my friend, my partner, my darkness. Come. We need you. Hurry. - 

………………….. 

He called out for Gavroche, but did not expect an answer in the darkness. The hangar was in chaos. Lifts had toppled to their sides. Metal junk was everywhere. There were pierced holes in the opening to the surface, letting in light at odd angles. Gavroche was probably needed elsewhere, sticking his nose in the heat of the battle. 

But a chirpy voice pierced his thoughts. "So glad you could join us, sir!" 

Grantaire turned and found the young mechanic behind a work station, armed with a rolling toolbox now stuffed with various odds and ends, scavenged from here and there throughout the hangar. "Hey," he greeted. "How bad is it?" 

The base shook again, dislodging dust and metal parts. "Quite bad," the mechanic replied with a grin. "But we'll manage." 

He looked up at the Drift Singularity, silent amid the confusion. "Is she ready?" he asked. 

Gavroche smiled. "If you are." 

"I'll mess up." 

"At least, we would have tried," the boy said, with a pat to the pilot's arm. 

Grantaire chuckled, then sighed. "Take me up."


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 13 chapters. How...unlucky. We'll see if an epilogue will happen. But it ends here. Thank you to all who read (here or in bursts on tumblr) and encouraged and shared (I still never found out exactly how people know about this thing) and kudos'ed. 
> 
> K can tell you that several chapters and this ending should NOT have happened, if I were better informed, worse in the head, and more stupid. You can thank her for many things.

His heart pounded a mile a minute. He controlled it by taking long, heavy breaths. He desperately kept his brain half-dazed, half-asleep, to keep it from backing out. Besides, the daze kept his brain partly in the Drift, to a voice in his head that kept pulling him forward, upward.

\- You can do this. We can do this. You and me. Come. Come with me. -

He felt himself being moved by a force beyond himself. He did not object. It was a direction. Better than none. Not when people were threatening to be seriously hurt, even die.

But, by everything, he wanted to sleep completely. To not think, to not be involved. To die alone, with no one’s blood on his hands. He wanted to go back to sleep. 

\- No, my friend. Stay with me, with us. Focus. You can do this. -

He felt another tug at his heart and legs, as the hatch to the cockpit opened. One foot followed another as he stepped into the cockpit.

The next words he heard with his own ears: “That’s it, Grantaire.”

He turned and found the pilot already strapped into position, the control panel ready for a fight. Enjolras smiled.

Every small bit of anxiety rose up to the surface, before that face. _I’m going to get you killed I’m going to get us killed I’m getting the whole base destroyed I’m going to get everyone killed I should be dead before I do that Don’t make me do this don’t don’t don’t don’t Let me go back to sleep let me stay back you can help without me just assume tactical you don’t need me you don’t need me you don’t need me at all let me go let me go let me go let me die leave me alone leave me alone let me go let me be dead let me…._

"Grantaire. Stop."

_I can’t I can’t i can’t i can’t i can’t…._

"Stop. Strap in." 

"But…." 

"Gavroche." Enjolras looked toward the mechanic. 

The boy saluted, then pulled Grantaire by the hands up toward his half of the cockpit.

His brain kept screaming _No no no no no no I can’t i can’t i can’t i can’t don’t make me do this don’t don’t don’t_. Nonetheless, the co-pilot allowed the boy to place the straps over his legs and arms, to put the helmet over his face, to hook the transmission to the control room onto his neck. 

The wait was not long for synchronization; they were both in the Drift part way anyway, in a way nobody in the world besides themselves could comprehend, not even the unspoken leaders and experts of the whole resistance stationed in Hong Kong. 

Getting out, however, was another matter. The category-4 had broken the hatch opening with its pounding and tail-whipping. 

"We’ll have to punch our way out," Enjolras observed. "Just lift us up, then Grantaire can punch us through….right?" 

But the co-pilot was not moving. His arms and legs remained still, his head hung. 

Being in the Drift Enjolras was flooded with replays of himself being thrown into the sky, of screams in the night, of the fight days earlier, of nights the co-pilot spent curled up and scared of causing hurt and pain again. 

Enjolras swept through all the terrible memories, pierced and punched through them, until he reached the co-pilot himself. He took his shoulders in the Drift. He shook him, until Grantaire was a little more focused. 

All the while hydraulics slowly lifted them nearer the hatch, as quietly as could be managed, to avoid getting undue attention until necessary. 

"Grantaire! I’m here, I’m here," Enjolras reminded him. "I’ll walk you through it. Just….stay steady." 

Grantaire silently nodded and steeled. 

The lift stopped as the jaeger’s head reached the hatch. 

"Kneel," Enjolras ordered, and Grantaire positioned the jaeger so. To Courfeyrac he relayed, "Push us up a bit more." Then again to Grantaire: "On my cue, punch." 

"That’s…..that’s all?" Grantaire asked with hesitation. 

"The first among many things, but yes," Enjolras assured him. 

The lift stopped again. The kaiju roared just beyond the hatch. 

"Fists ready," Enjolras said. 

Grantaire took a deep and heavy breath, but complied. 

"NOW!" 

The jaeger broke a hole into the steel, with the rapidity and immediacy of the season fighter that moved her. Without being told, Grantaire kicked through the small hole, creating a larger one, until the whole machine could pass in. 

They remained on the lift as it rose to the surface, as it met the monster. A Category-4.

Grantaire blanked again.

"Focus!" Enjolras barked. "You can do this. I know what you can do. Now concentrate."

He forced himself to face the kaiju, strong, muscular, and thoroughly angry. It was already bloody from the base’s cannon shot and laser fire, but it was still moving, still maintaining its firm hold on the base. It peeled open the watchtowers and grabbed at many of the cannons, taking men along with it.

"Laser pistol," Enjolras ordered, keeping an eye on all the coordinates, observing the relayed destruction status of the base. "Aim for the head," he said, as both sets of their arms locked the target.

The kaiju kept its attention on the watchtower it had just pried open.

"FIRE!"

Grantaire steadied the jaeger as it pulled back from the laser’s reactive force. The laser fired a beam straight into the jaeger’s skull.

However, it only succeeded in making the kaiju turn toward them.

"That’s right, you ugly thing, look at us," Enjolras taunted. "Grantaire, get us a good position."

"What?" The memories began to flood the system again. 

Enjolras swept them away. “Focus. Get us into the water.”

"Okay."

Grantaire was left to plan this, as he had full control of the lower limbs and 80% control of the arms. He steadied the jaeger at the edge of the hatch, then leaped off it.

He actually missed moving such a massive hunk of metal like it was an extension of his body.

He fired another shot at the the monster’s chest. “Hey, ugly! Stop ruining our house!” he taunted. “We can’t buy good beer if we have so much to repair!” He fired the laser again. 

He could not believe he was doing this.

He trotted the machine and jumped into the water, creating a heavy splash. He fired more shots, until the kaiju faced them, until it began to move toward them. 

He charged, pelted the monster with an uppercut and a roundhouse. Then he leaped away, and fired, urging the monster to follow. 

These he did naturally, without being instructed. It all just felt…natural…to him, the regular flow of a good fight with a strong contender. He was the other half of one of the fastest jaegers in operation, the most skilled fighter among them all. 

Enjolras had given him full control. He was not held back by Enjolras’s weaker mobility coordination. The mobility was his to control, and it freed him to fight. His adrenalin surged. He needed to win this fight. For everyone. For Enjolras. For himself. 

He charged again, sending straight punches. Enjolras aimed the laser fires, but it was Grantaire who ordered when he would use the pistol. He combined punches and kicks and takedowns. 

He was in a fight. It had been too long since he fought one himself. A real fight, not just one with his self, and his brain. 

"You know what we’re doing," Enjolras, meanwhile, spoke to the control room. "Ready the other jaegers for a joint attack, once we have the thing fully away from creating more damage. On our mark, use all force necessary to take it down." 

But the kaiju suddenly sprinted, and hurled its full weight onto the Drift Singularity’s chest. 

Grantaire grabbed the monster by its head. “You asked for it, damn you!” he screamed, as he put the kaiju in a stranglehold and kicked its chest with a knee. Keeping the grapple on the neck, Grantaire toppled the monster onto its side. 

The kaiju whipped its tail onto the jaeger, but Grantaire saw it in time and ducked as the whip passed over them. He took out the long sword they had, their last-resort arsenal, and chopped off the muscular tail with a terrible swipe.

He then drove the sword straight into the kaiju’s left eye, piercing bone, blood, and brain, planting the monster into one place. 

"ATTACK AT WILL!" Enjolras screamed. 

Paris Contradiction was lamed already and fired from a distance. Flash Corinthian came running and brought down its heavy spear onto the monster’s belly. Drift Singularity circled toward the kaiju’s neck.

Grantaire grabbed the head again, and wrenched it apart from the rest of its body. For good measure, he sliced at the head and parted it, not satisfied until he saw alien blood spill copiously into the sea. 

Finally, the kaiju was still.

Grantaire caught his breath, but he too was still. 

Enjolras breathed a long sigh of relief. 

"Welcome back, Grantaire." 

Grantaire turned around and smiled. 

"You never let me leave." 

………………………………………….

The watchtower was gone, the hatch had plenty of holes, the electricity was on the fritz. But there were no casualities, only severe injuries to a few. And there was a victory. 

Everyone who could, celebrated….by going to sleep. The attack had frazzled everyone’s nerves. Everyone sought to relax afterward. They promised to party after the major repairs were done. 

Grantaire, however, could not sleep. He refused all the proffered beers as well, and there were many beer cans and bottles offered when some sense of normalcy returned. He remained at the helipad, watching the sea.

Enjolras’s wheelchair whirred behind him. The pilot wrapped his arms around the co-pilot’s waist. He held on, not speaking, leaning his head onto the co-pilot’s back.

"Thank you."

Grantaire sighed. “I don’t deserve…”

"Just accept what you are given, my friend, my partner, my darkness."

Grantaire turned. 

He wrapped his arms around his light.


	14. epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the real end of it. NSFW somewhere in the middle. 
> 
> Thank you all for reading and such and for all the kudos. Thank you for accepting all the angst. 
> 
> Once again, give your thanks to K. Otherwise it was highly possible that this would not have ended. 
> 
> K keeps asking for side-stories and prequels and such. We'll see. I'm not sure.

They heard the non-urgent alarm blaring, but half an hour after midnight. Confused, everyone woke up, drowsily, and paid attention. 

The center spoke. 

"We have official word from Hong Kong. It cost crucial lives and several jaegers. But the kaiju portal has been destroyed, and a category-5 has been killed. The war is over. For good." 

The entire base fell silent, deathly silent. 

"Yes, kids. The war is over. We all did a good job. We, your leaders, are thankful for all you have done. We are grateful for the lives we still have, the lives we almost lost but still have with us. 

"Now, if you all just let me and Enjolras and Courfeyrac have some sleep, we’ll all think about what’s next for us….in the morning…. 

This was followed by the sounds of gentle but deep snoring, until the public address system was mercifully cut. 

……………………………………

Enjolras kept blankly staring at the official video message from the Hong Kong branch. He had not heard a word of Combeferre’s message. His brain was still registering the video. 

"It’s…..it’s over," he muttered. "We won." 

He kept staring at the laptop screen, at the end of the message. 

It was over. 

Everything he had worked toward, his entire life for several years….it was over. He had won. He had not done it himself. But it was over. 

His brain ran into a wall. 

…………………………………

"Enjolras?" 

He blinked. 

"It’s three in the morning. Can’t sleep again?" 

He blinked again. He did not understand the question. He was just staring at the computer for a few moments, wondering about the now, and the future. 

"You okay?" 

He did not know what to say. His eyes were transfixed on the monitor. 

He felt a warmth on his forehead, then on his cheek, on his neck. “Come to bed,” Grantaire purred. 

"But…it’s over…" he protested. 

"Hush," Grantaire said, as he was lifted off the chair and onto the carpeted floor. "You need sleep. And I’m just getting started." 

His brain kept asking _What now? What happens? What happens to me? Will there be any more use for me now? What is my purpose?_ even as Grantaire began to plant kisses on his neck and his mouth. His mind kept asking _What happens to me? To Combeferre? To Courfeyrac? To Grantaire? To everyone? What will they do? What will I do? What can I do for them?_ even as Grantaire reached for his groin and began to fondle him. 

"Hush. Remove all thought for now. There is a time and place for them. But not this moment," Grantaire said, as he stroked. 

The pleasure began to reach him. He began to feel warm. He began to feel need. He needed to loosen his pants. He needed to free his penis. He began to sweat. He needed to take off his shirt. 

He grew dazed, drowsy, needy. He needed to think: what about his future? What about the resistance? What about the future of his friends? What would he do now? 

He was kissed again. His tongue met his as he was kissed over and over. 

Right now? He felt so warm. He began to fell stiff. He began to squirm. His thoughts lost sense. 

He opened his pants and struggled to lower them. He took out his shaft, and rubbed it, because he desperately needed to, in between thoughts of _What do I do now? What about Grantaire? What about my friends? What about Grantaire? Why is he kissing me? Why do I need to rub myself? But I need to! Why? Why is he still kissing me? Why is it so warm? Why am I so wanting him right now? What do I for everyone now? What will happen to them? Why do I need to pleasure me because he is pleasuring me? I need to. Why do I need to? What happens to me? What happens to all my friends? Why is it so hot?_

He dazedly removed his shirt. 

Grantaire freed him from the pants. His legs were parted. 

Grantaire stood where he could be seen for all of himself, as he too undressed, slowly and deliberately. Enjolras felt warmer, as each article of clothing was removed, revealing biceps and abdominals and pectorals and thighs, newly honed as they were re-practiced. 

Enjolras kept his hands on his groin, feeling the need rise in him as Grantaire stood before him, swaying and posturing as he stroked himself, readying the shaft.

He stiffened as he watched that body, readying itself for him. He watched with ever growing need as the shaft slowly rose, obeying the strokes given it. He rubbed himself even more, wanting that body even more, imaging that body already inside him and unable to wait. He wanted that shaft, erect and beautiful, within him. 

His legs were lifted. He felt the shaft slowly enter him, filling him. He felt the co-pilot’s hands wrap around his own shaft, heightening the sensations already surging there. 

He felt his need rise even more as the hips swayed, as the shaft moved in and out, slow at first, then with more speed. The hands around his own shaft also moved, sending waves of urgency upward. He panted, trying to catch his breath, trying to understand what was going on, failing completely, as the need reached his head. 

He felt ready to burst. 

His thoughts stopped, his sense ceased. He held back no longer, and he released, trembling as peace and reassurance overwhelmed him, as the co-pilot also released within him, sighing contentedly with slow gentle breaths.

Grantaire draped himself over him, as he fell into a pleasurable slumber.

…………………………………………

Enjolras wheeled into the control room that evening. The day had passed with him asleep through most of it, with Grantaire blanketed over him.

He raised an eyebrow at the seat of power: Combeferre was still snoring in it. He found Courfeyrac slumped under the monitors.

"It’s like you three haven’t slept in years," Grantaire quipped behind him. "Why are you awake?" 

Enjolras sighed. “I’ve had a few months.” He sighed again. “What happens now?”

"You’re the light," Grantaire said. "You’ll think of it."

Enjolras kept staring at the center and the coordinator, resting with the sleep of the dead. “You give me too much credit. I expected to die doing this. So did they.”

"But you’re alive."

"I know." 

"Okay." Grantaire grinned. 

Enjolras sighed, watching a quiet hangar filled with mechanics and engineers cleaning it up, clearing it from battle readiness. “Now what?”

"You’ll find out. One day at a time." Grantaire shrugged. 

Enjolras chuckled. “Strange, that. Coming from you.” 

"You brought me to this day. Anything is possible." 

Enjolras smiled, and nodded. 

…………………………………

Peace returned to the planet, but the resistance remained. 

They were too familiar with each other, and too alienated from much of the world around them, to stop being the resistance. They merely found new ways to fight the establishment. 

……………………..

"Grantaire! It’s after lunch! You have classes!" the PA system reminded. 

"Keep an eye on the sea-air traffic, coordinator!" Grantaire grumbled.

He still had a hangover from Enjolras. He could not believe how that guy managed to have a night of passion, then get up at six in the morning, to appear in the city council’s youth committee with Combeferre by nine. 

"You’ll thank me later. Now get up, the kids will soon be here!" Courfeyrac said. 

Grantaire grumbled but headed to the bathroom. 

He heard furious knocking on the quarter’s door. “R! Your bike is ready!” Gavroche called out. 

The young mechanic had salvaged parts and promised to make him a personalized motorcycle. It seems the mechanic was true to his word. “Later, later!” he said, starting the shower. 

Another shout at the door. “Grantaire! I need the receipts! I need to balance your accounts!” 

"I have to find them!" he should back to Marius. 

"Income taxes! I need to file them TOMORROW!" 

"Oh, stop bothering him," Gavroche said, "Bahorel probably keeps them somewhere with the grown-up student receipts." 

"O…..kay….if you say so," Marius’s voice faded in the hallway. 

Grantaire managed to shower in peace. He headed through the halls to the practice area. He breathed in the heavy scent of orchids and roses from Jehan’s little garden, which already had some prize-winners and regular customers. He peeked at Feuilly in his room, busy making souvenir paper fans on commission. 

He was blocked by Joly. The doctor raised an alcohol-breath meter and a urine container. 

"I’m clean, doc," he said, glaring. 

"Protocol, if you want to keep your license-to-operate," Joly grinned as he pointed to the nearest toilet. 

Grantaire rolled his eyes, breathed into the contraption, and submitted some pee into the container. “Is it true that you DON’T actually pass my samples?” 

Joly blushed and thrust out a tray. “Shut up and give me the thing.” 

Grantaire shrugged and returned the container. “You do have Klonopin or Valium….” 

"NO." 

"Relax. I was just fooling." 

Grantaire placed his hands in his pockets and left Joly. 

He stepped into the cafeteria and got a sandwich for a late lunch. 

He bumped into Eponine, rushing from the cafeteria. They both tumbled, spilling the letters and small packages in Eponine’s messenger bag. She had just returned with the group’s mail, having done some deliveries and pick-ups in the city earlier. 

"Hey, R!" 

"Sorry…" 

"Oh, it’s okay, I was distracted," Eponine waved it off. She searched through the pile of letters scattered on the floor, found one and raised it to him. "Here, this is for you." 

Grantaire rolled his eyes, as he opened the crisp white envelope and found a postcard from the city hall in it. It simply read, in Enjolras’s scrawling cursive: “Good. You’re awake. Have a good class.” 

He smiled. He always considered them as talismans and good-luck charms. The kids would be good and listen to him and understand the basic movements. None would run around while he was teaching. None would be fighting. None would end up with a fractured forearm from a bad practice kick. 

He opened the door to the practice room.

The practice room was converted somewhat to accept children and adults as martial-arts students at most training levels. 

Soon the six-year-olds would be arriving. He would practice them on basic kicks for taekwondo. 

It would be a good day. 

As would be the day tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EK out.


End file.
